


The Great Bread Problem

by Fishystar



Category: Ao Haru Ride
Genre: Bread, Confessions, F/M, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Misunderstandings, crackfic, freaking out
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-28
Updated: 2020-01-28
Packaged: 2021-02-27 07:26:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,706
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22453378
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fishystar/pseuds/Fishystar
Summary: His hand grips my wrist tighter, “I thought we agreed, no more bread!”  He practically growls at me.  I’m torn between looking over my shoulder to look at him, or looking anywhere but him.  I choose to look at my feet in the end.  When he says ‘we’ agreed he means he told me that the buying of bread needs to stop, and yes I did agree it needs to stop.  But I didn’t agree that I would.
Relationships: Mabuchi Kou/Yoshioka Futaba
Kudos: 14





	The Great Bread Problem

**Author's Note:**

> So like, this fic has been in the works on/off for YEARS  
> There are many things in this fic that I don't want to try to find a way to explain. So instead I chose not to. So welcome to my first crackfic! and my first and maybe only fic for Ao Haru Ride!
> 
> I hope you enjoy!!

I sit in the kitchen, staring at the seven bagfuls of bread I bought today. This is my most recent problem. I’m spending all of my money on bread. This is different from when we were in high school. Because back then I bought the bread, and actually ate all of it to bring down my feminine charm. Now I’m just compulsively buying bread. So lately we have been nursing a ten foot mountain of bread in the kitchen.  
“You bought more?” My roommate asks from the doorway. He walks in and sits in the chair opposite of me at the table. Mabuchi Kou just stares at me. He then starts glaring at me. “Futaba, you need to stop buying bread.” He tells me sternly.  
I nod silently. I know that I need to stop, but it’s not as easy as it seems. Because when I’m sad the bread seems to call to me, drawing me in. I reach into one of the bags and pull out something random. Not really caring what, just needing something to do with my mouth, otherwise I might say something I'll regret later.  
This is all his fault anyways. Offering to let me live here with him like he did, when my house burned down. Even though we are still close I still haven’t told him how I feel, and each time I fail and then I find myself in a bakery with more bread.  
I turn my head to the side while still absently chewing slowly. “Futaba. What do you plan to do with all this bread?” He asks.  
“I don’t know. Give it to the hungry?” I offer between bites. I turn to look at him again. He’s wearing a blank expression again. Then he stands, using the table to push himself up as he lets out an exasperated sigh.  
“Futaba, what am I going to do with you?” He asks.  
The words slip from my mouth, it’s not the first time. I notice the tip of my nose still turns cherry red and I can’t move, I can’t breath as I wait for what he’ll reply, though it’s always been the same. My words hang in the air, “You could try to love me.”  
“Y-You? Are you still going on with that joke?” He asks as he gives a humorless laugh, it’s all wrong. Maybe he can feel it that I don’t mean it as a joke; or maybe he doesn’t know how to react if it isn’t a joke. But the fact that he keeps acting as if my feelings towards him can only be a joke, it hurts. I stand up and leave the kitchen and retreat into my room, taking a bag of bread with me. Right now I’m in the mood to do nothing but eat. I just want to try and eat my feelings out of existence.  
I’m wrong, it’s not his fault. It’s mine. I’m like this because I just can’t seem to tell him the truth about how I feel.

xXx

It was hours ago that she went to her room, and I just now managed to convince her to go wash up, and I couldn’t help but notice that she forgot to bring a towel in with her. I pick up the towel I bought for her weeks ago, hoping it might make her feel more comfortable living here. But I just haven’t been able to give it to her, because it was at that time she started to buy too much bread.  
I didn’t say anything at first about it, because I didn’t think that it would get to the point of having a mini mountain of bread, buns, and other bread-type foods.  
I’m standing just outside of the bathroom. Trying to decide whether I should just go in and set the towel on the counter or not. I reach for the door handle, if it’s unlocked I’ll do it, if not I’ll move on to something else to distract myself.  
My hand on the door handle I gently slid it open. It’s unlocked. I quickly enter and drop the towel on the counter. Then I turn back around and leave without a word, without looking around. I am out and just as I close the door I hear the shower turn off. That’s when I hear it, her chanting. I can’t make out what the chant is. All I know is that each time she says it, it’s said with a different emotion. Determination, fear, anxiety, tenderness, joy. I don’t know what the chant is that she is reciting with all of these emotions, but more than likely she won’t appreciate me standing right outside of the bathroom door. So I turn and go into the kitchen to do something about all that bread.

xXx

Turning off the water I continue my chant of, “I’ll tell him I love him.” But after each time I say it, a thought pops into my head, affecting how I say it the next time.  
“I’ll tell him I love him.” What if he rejects me?   
“I’ll tell him I love him.” What if he kicks me out?  
“I’ll tell him I love him.” Stop it! He wouldn’t do that!  
“I’ll tell him I love him.” What if he feels the same?  
“I’ll tell him I love him.” Where did this towel come from?  
I peek at the pink towel that sits on the counter, I know I didn’t bring that here. I also know that I’ve never seen that towel before. So why is it here? I hesitantly pick up the foreign towel shocked at how soft it is as I examine it. Deciding to use it to dry off then get dressed again I then wrap the slightly damp towel around my hair. Stepping out of the warm bathroom and into the cold hallway, I walk through the house looking for Kou, and find him in the kitchen packing the bread into boxes. “What are you doing?” I ask him softly.  
He looks over his shoulder at me, and I notice the hint of pink that dusts his face. Is he that mad about the bread? “You were the one that suggested we give all this away. I figured packing it into boxes would make it easier to carry.” He answered, turning his gaze away and back to the bread mountain he is slowly trying to pack into a box.  
I just watch him in a silent stunned moment. He’s not mad? Then he turns back to me seeming agitated. “Are you going to help or do you plan to just watch?”  
I shake my head softly and move to stand on the other side of the box and begin to assist to dismantle one of the bread mountains. I’m not as tall as Kou so I’m not quite able to reach the top of the mountain, and me pulling from part way down the mountain leads to the avalanche of tumbling bread. The bread at the top crashes into others on it’s way down only causing more damage and more falling bread until the mountain is now half its original size and the floor all around us is so littered, the floor can’t be seen anymore. I’m frozen unable to breath waiting for his reaction.  
He stares down at the floor and our buried feet and sighs softly. Without a word he crouches down and begins to pick the bread up off of the floor and place it next to the box sitting on the table.

xXx

We continue to work in silence until the box is full. Futaba takes the box and maneuvers her way through the bread maze, careful not to crush anything, while I go to get an empty box to pack away more bread. Glancing at the pile of bread, I heave a sigh. Wondering what happened to cause this. Her words from earlier flash in my mind. ‘You could try to love me.’ The words echo in my mind and guilt bubbles up. I can't try, I doubt I'll ever be able to. The thought of telling her frightens me to the point that my walls come up and I almost return to how I was when we reunited in highschool. Even though I know that she really does like me, and telling her wouldn't hurt. I can't help the doubt, the devastating feeling that I'm wrong and things do somehow turn out for the worst.  
I return with several empty boxes rather than just one so that when this one is full we can just move it to the side and start on the next box. Once we begin filling the final box we keep reaching for the same thing over and over again. Flustered I step away from the remains of the bread mountain and her.

xXx

“Okay, there is something you clearly want to say. Just say it.” He leans against the side of the table his arms crossed over his chest.  
“It’s not that simple.” I shake my head and stand up, turning away to avoid looking at him.  
“You haven’t even tried yet.” He tilts his head towards me.  
That pushes me over the edge and everything I’ve been holding in spills out filling the air, similar to how the bread had scattered across the floor earlier. “Yes I have! I have been trying since high school! Each failed attempt would only leave me with this empty feeling that is the cause of this bread problem!” I cry out  
“Well, I’m listening. What is it?” He offers softly, reassuringly. His arms fall to his sides and takes three steps towards me.  
I start but the words get caught in my throat. “I-”  
“You?” He asks while closing the distance between us. Stopping a couple feet away from me.  
“Ilikeyou” I whisper, and turn away from him in embarrassment while my face flames.  
He doesn’t reply, leaving me to try and imagine what his expression is. A small part of me is hoping that maybe his silence means he didn’t hear me.  
“I like you!” I say louder, somehow the second time was easier than the first, or maybe it’s because I’m not facing him directly this time that made it easier.  
“I heard you the first time, but I- I’ve kinda guessed?” He says softly, his voice coming from directly behind me.  
A feeling, an emotion bubbles up in my chest. “Then why would you act like my feelings are a joke?” I ask, a little angry, and desperate, with a hint of fear.  
“I never considered your feelings to be a joke.” His voice sounds so sincere.  
I can’t respond. Something inside me is dying. Hope is dying. My hope that he might like me, that he might accept me. The hope that had kept me going all this time. A hand grasps my shoulder and turns me to face him. My eyes quickly lock onto his automatically, I intend to look away but the way he is looking at me keeps my eyes locked on his.  
“I never considered your feelings a joke, but I thought you were joking when you say stuff like ‘I could try to love you’ as if I don’t already.” He lifts one hand to cup my cheek and softly runs a thumb over my skin.  
I lean into his touch. A warmth filling my chest. Hope flares back to life. “I thought… I don’t really know what I thought. But how can you ask someone that you love with to move in with you and continue on with life like it doesn’t mean anything, like there isn’t a difference?” Anxiety bubbles up in my chest and on impulse and I grab one of the buns and try to open it to eat it but my hands are slick with sweat I didn’t notice had been building up. So instead of ripping the plastic open it just ends up getting smushed.  
A hand covers the bun and gently pries it from my sweaty grip. “Is that the way I look to you? I am a wreck. I mean, I know I offered to let you move in, and a small part of me hoped you would, but I honestly believed you wouldn’t; that you would move in with one of your other friends instead, and like you said, I am living with the girl I’m in love with, and that makes me nervous. I am always nervous when I’m around you.”  
I blink up at him, fingers gripping the space where the bun was a moment ago, brain failing to process it’s absence in favor of trying to process the words he just spoke. His voice so quiet that I need to focus on him to understand. His other hand comes up to rest on my shoulder gently.  
That’s the moment I realize that he is waiting for a reply, some sign that I heard him, that I understand what has been said. But the sound that I emit perfectly explains just how much I don’t understand.  
My mind is becoming so overworked with trying to understand that I start to lose balance and I barely have time to panic about my world tilting before I’m caught and righted, most of my weight being held up by him, pressed against him. His arms wrapped around me protectively. I tilt my head back to look up at his face again, and find he is flushed, and my foggy mind can’t comprehend why for a fleeting moment. But once that moment passes I discover the lack of space between us and my face flames to the same shade as his.  
All too soon he lets me go and I begin crumpling again just for him to capture me in his arms again, this time picking me clear up off the floor and walking towards my room.  
Only to leave me sitting on my bed in my room by myself. Heart beating frantically, unable to breathe I allow myself the reprieve that he has given me. I don't wish for the conversation to have ended but my mind needs time to process everything.

He likes me. He really, truly likes me!

No.  
That’s not right.

He loves me!

I leap from my bed at the realization. Glancing at the clock I notice half an hour has passed. I rush to my door and pull it open so fast that it slammed so hard that it reverberates but I'm already out of my room and rushing to find him, but he isn't here. I end up on the small couch in the living room knees pulled up to my chin and arms holding them tightly, squishing myself into a ball of nerves. I might have turned on the TV as a distraction, but I wasn’t really watching. My sight didn’t actually go as far as the TV at the moment.  
I just sit there, unblinking, until he appears in front of me. Waving his hand in my face, face worried, mouth moving. He turned off the TV. “Are you okay? Maybe you should go get some sleep.”  
Before he can make a move, my hand darts to grasp his wrist. I open my mouth don’t leave me on my tongue but it feels like sandpaper where did you go I should get a glass of water is it true I close my mouth and swallow the nothing in my mouth in a futile attempt to wet my tongue. “Please.” I couldn’t tear my gaze away from his even if I tried, he waits patiently for me to continue. “Say it.” He blinks at me confused. “Please.”  
Eyes flickering between my eyes, searching for what I mean, then recognition flashes and he smiles shyly. “I love you.” His face turns a bright shade of pink.  
My feet move to the floor as I lean a little closer. “I love you too.” We don’t kiss. Not yet, but I’m sure in time we will. Many many times. But in this moment he sits next to me and cuddles into my side, and we fall asleep like that.

**Author's Note:**

> So, for those that wanna know Kou had left with one of the boxes of bread stuffs and was just giving the contents away to whoever would take it until the box was empty.  
> Leave a kudos if you enjoyed this this! I'd love to hear what you guys think!  
> I'm also on tumblr! Feel free to come talk to me!  
> @Fishystar


End file.
